Scandal
by LW107
Summary: Leighton Meester/Ed Westwick RPF. Ed's reaction to the drama that ensues because of Leighton's sex tape. Pretty fluffy.


**A/N: This is RPF, people. Don't read it if you don't like it.**

**XOXO**

He learns the news in a text message sent by Chace, the screen of his Blackberry illuminating in the darkness of his bedroom late Thursday night. Ed groans, rolling away from Jessica to grab his phone from the nightstand. His alarm clock reveals that it's 3:07am, and he curses whoever has disturbed his sleep as he glances at the Blackberry's screen. _Dude, Leight has a sex tape!? WTF? _

His grogginess disappears in an instant. He sits up, throwing his legs off the side of the bed with a scowl on his face as he types his response. _What the hell are you talking about?_

He slides off the bed and walks to the living room with his phone in hand, not bothering to throw on clothes since Chace is visiting family in Dallas. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, he takes a swig as his roommate's reply appears on his phone. _It's all over the web. Crazy shit._

Ed's jaw tightens, and he has a sudden urge to tell Chace to stop acting like such an insensitive prick. It's a surprising reaction, especially considering it's usually someone telling _him _to stop being a prick, but he doesn't allow himself to analyze the unexpected surge of protectiveness he suddenly feels for Leighton. He frowns, chewing on his lip as he boots up his laptop and types her name into Google.

Just as Chace promised, there it is. _Leighton Meester's Sex Tape Saga! XOXO_

There are a hundred stories just like it, each of them flashy and ridden with scandal, lined up one after another as if Gossip Girl herself had set out to destroy his co-star's reputation. He frowns, and though he knows he shouldn't, he can't help his impulse to hover his cursor over the link. He double clicks before he has the chance to talk himself out of his decision, and images of Leighton fill his screen, each of them blurry and intrusive and _beautiful_.

He swallows against the bile rising in his throat. He can't imagine what she must be feeling right now; betrayal, hurt, embarrassment. She's always maintained a level of privacy, and he instinctively knows that this is one of the worst things she'll ever have to deal with. He shakes his head, closing his laptop and as he reaches for his phone and dials her number without a thought to the early morning hour.

When she doesn't answer, he leaves her a message. "Leight, it's Ed. I, uh…well, I just want to make sure you're okay. I … fuck, just call me, okay?"

She doesn't.

**XOXO**

They begin shooting season three on Monday morning, black SUVs dropping them off in front of their respective trailers on the set in Gramercy Park. He grabs two coffees from craft services, ignoring the throng of fans as he knocks on her trailer's door and waits for her assistant to let him in.

She's studying the script when he walks through the door, her overdone chestnut curls a contradiction to the fitting tank and jeans that she's yet to change out of. He immediately thinks that she looks beautiful, her skin tanned after spending the last month in LA shooting a movie. He smiles when he realizes that she's staring at him expectantly, and he suddenly feels awkward as he hovers above her. "Uh, coffee?"

She nods appreciatively, taking the cup from his hand. "Thanks," she says, smiling hesitantly and gesturing to the empty spot on the couch. "Want to run through lines?"

He doesn't, but he sits down anyway. He knows he should say something, perhaps something cheesy about missing her smart-ass comments during the show's two month hiatus, but it all feels forced and out of place so he opts to remain silent. He takes a sip of coffee to bide the time, grimacing as the burning liquid scorches his tongue.

Finally, he opens his mouth, his eyes almost apologetic as they meet hers. "I saw the tape, Leight. Are you … Christ, are you okay?"

He immediately knows it was the wrong thing to say. She looks mortified, her face flushing a deep shade of crimson as she glances down. "Can we not talk about that?" She says it softly, _desperately_, and he starts to apologize, but she shakes her head and shifts her face from his view. "Let's just go through the scene," she utters, her voice sounding quieter than he's ever heard her speak.

He thinks his heart might break when he sees a tear land on the script resting against her lap.

**XOXO**

They film in the studio later in the week. She's doing a scene with Blake and Penn, and he watches her from the edge of the set, her bitch-face set firmly to her features as she rests a hand against her hip. He thinks that she was made to play Blair Waldorf.

They break for lunch when the scene is wrapped, and the cast heads to The Palace for a baby shower for Kelly. It's a fitting location for the party, and he can almost pretend that they're Chuck and Blair as he helps her out of the SUV.

But the moment is lost when the paparazzi make their selves known, shouting for their attention as they lift their cameras. He hears Blake groan, and Penn appears by her side in an instant, wrapping his arm around her shoulders to help her through the crowd. Ed has the foolish desire to act accordingly with Leighton, but then Sebastian emerges from the town car behind theirs, grabbing her hand when he approaches them.

Staking his claim, Ed thinks.

They push through the mass of cameras, their bodyguards doing their best to create a path for them to walk through. Shouts are coming from every which way: _Chace, how's it feel to be People's sexiest bachelor? Blake, when are you and Penn moving in together?_

And then time seems to stop; _Leighton, can you show us some moves from your sex tape?_

They all pause in horror and her face quickly shifts to the ground, her shoulders tense. He watches Sebastian's face twist into a scowl, and then he drops her hand, almost as though he can't stand to touch her. Ed has the sudden desire to lunge at his friend, to teach him how lucky he is to have a girl like Leighton, but he opts to turn his anger toward the loud-mouth pap instead.

Chace pulls him back before he's able to throw a punch, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the entrance of the hotel. (_Seriously man_, he says later, _you want to get sued? _But Ed knows that he's really protecting him from having the world find out that he's in love with his co-star.)

Blake asks her if she's alright when they get into the lobby, throwing her arms around Leighton's shoulders and telling her to forget about the tactless photographer. Leighton nods against her neck, and Ed knows instinctively that she's fighting tears. "Let's not talk about it," she mumbles, stepping back and glancing around. He thinks she must be looking for Sebastian, and when she sees that he's disappeared, her face falls. She sighs, her shoulders slumping in defeat.

**XOXO**

The subject is dropped as she requested, a taboo of sorts amongst their coworkers, and by the next weekend, Ed can almost convince himself that nothing is out of the ordinary. That is, if it weren't for the obvious, growing tension between Leighton and Sebastian.

It's a Saturday night and they're all sitting in a booth in the back of Tortilla Flats. Ed frowns as he observes Leighton sitting across from him, her back ramrod straight as she watches her boyfriend down his third tequila shot at the bar. She's frowning, her face straddling the line between anger and distress. She reminds him of Blair in that moment, and he's suddenly bombarded with the absurd desire to be the Bass to her Waldorf.

"Leight?"

When she turns to look at him, there's a frown marring her features. She shakes her head as their eyes meet, clearing the vague film of tears that coat her vision. "We're fighting," she explains, an answer to his silent question, and she waves her hand as though it's an unimportant detail. "He's pissed at me."

His eyes narrow, and he refills her margarita glass with the half-empty pitcher resting on the table. He suspects that he knows the subject of their troubles, and he curses Seb for being such a dick. "He's a bloody arse," he offers. He expects her to smile, and when she doesn't, he presses further. "He doesn't deserve you," he says before he can stop himself.

Her eyes widen slightly and he can tell he's caught her off guard. He feels his heart skip a beat as her face flushes, and for a moment, he wishes he could rewind time and choose to keep his mouth shut.

But then she smiles, causing his heart to flutter, and he sure that he's never seen her look more beautiful in the three years that he's known her.

Chace and Sebastian slide into the booth seconds later, breaking the spell as they slur their desire to head to PDT. Leighton rolls her eyes, shifting away from Sebastian when he places his hand against the top of her thigh. She grabs her bag, standing. "I'm going to head home," she says, leaning forward to place a kiss on her boyfriend's cheek. "But you guys have fun."

Only a heartbeat passes before Ed shoots up beside her. "I'm going to pass, too," he tells them, his voice nonchalant as he avoids Sebastian's gaze. "Leight, want to share a cab?"

She nods her head, but they decide to walk home when they eventually encounter the warm summer night. They head down W 12th, and Ed has to shove his hand into the pocket of his jeans to fight his urge to take her hand into his.

They're on the corner of Eighth Avenue when Leighton finally breaks the silence. "I think he's going to break up with me," she utters. She says it quietly, but her eyes are fierce when he turns to look at her, filled with anger rather than the upset he might have expected. He wants to smile, recognizing the spark that is unique to Leighton for the first time since the whole ordeal began.

"I'll kill the little shit," he proposes, only half joking.

She laughs, meeting his gaze as they pause for traffic. "You better watch out," she says, wrapping her arm though his. "I might take you up on that."

**XOXO**

She shows up on his doorstep two weeks later, her eyes bloodshot and a bottle of bourbon tucked beneath her arm. He frowns, stepping back so she can enter the apartment. "You look like shit," he tells her, smirking slightly when she turns to glare at him. He smiles in reply, appearing apologetic.

She takes a seat on the leather couch, stealing a slice of pizza from the half empty box on the coffee table and switching off the Entourage rerun playing on TV. She sighs, meeting his gaze with glassy eyes. "I trusted him," she mumbles, and Ed suddenly realizes she's already drunk.

He's not sure whether she's talking about Sebastian or the bastard who sold their sex tape, but he decides he hates them both so he doesn't ask her to clarify. He scowls at the thought of them, taking a seat beside her. They're sitting shoulder to shoulder, and he can smell the harsh scent of bourbon wafting from her breath. "Start the party without me, Leight?"

She doesn't comment as she lies back against the couch, her eyes trained on the ceiling as she swallows the last of the pizza. The hem of her tie-dyed dress is inching dangerously up her thighs, and Ed has to force himself to look away before he does something he'll regret. When she finally breaks the silence, it's with a softly muttered, "He broke up with me tonight."

Ed's not sure what to say, feelings of pleasure and dismay occupying his mind with equal presence. He grabs her hand, stroking her palm with the pad of his thumb. Deciding to play it safe, he mumbles a quiet, "I'm sorry," (because he is sorry, but only because he knows she's hurting).

She nods absently, sitting up. He half expects her to remove her hand from his, but she doesn't, instead inching closer to him so that their knees brush. "Can I stay here tonight?" she asks suddenly, and he's about to say yes when she leans over and kisses him.

It's not soft or gentle or romantic; it's rough and desperate, and Ed idly thinks his lips might be bruised in the morning. She tastes like bourbon and that Dr. Pepper flavored lip glass she wears, and he's sure he's never tasted anything better in his entire life. He knows he has to put a stop to it – she's drunk and hurt and horny, and that's never a safe combination – but he just needs to taste her for a little while longer.

But before he can push her away, she's lifting her dress over her head, and he's suddenly seeing more of Leighton than he ever imagined he would, her slender body wickedly devoid of undergarments. He's sure he's stopped breathing, and when their eyes meet, she smiles coyly. "What's the matter, Westwick? It's nothing everyone hasn't already seen on the internet."

He frowns at the comment, and the weight of her intoxication falls to his shoulders as he draws away. "Leight …" he begins, but she cuts him off before he can finish.

"Right," she snaps, nodding. She scowls, crossing her arms over her bare chest. "I get it."

But she doesn't, he thinks. She doesn't get that he loves her, that he's _in love _with her, and that he doesn't want to be her drunken mistake. And he's about to tell her just that, but then she's shooting up from the couch, her face appearing pale as she hurriedly stumbles to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

A sigh escapes his lips as he rises to follow her. She's leaning over the toilet when he enters the bathroom, her stomach emptying itself of the overflow of bourbon. He grimaces, grabbing a dirty t-shirt from the hamper and draping it over her bare shoulders to give her a semblance of privacy. She groans in response, resting her head against the seat of the toilet as her stomach finally settles. "Everything's a mess," she utters, closing her eyes.

He doesn't argue with her observation, instead nodding in agreement despite the fact that she can't see him. He helps her stand, shifting his eyes to the floor when she slips the t-shirt over her head. There's a thin film of tears coating her eyes when he eventually glances up, and he frowns, stepping forward to wrap his arms around her shoulders.

When she sighs and relaxes into his embrace, he knows that he could get used to this; he could get used to _them_. He pulls her tighter, burying his nose into her hair and grimacing slightly. "You smell like vomit."

When she punches him in the shoulder, he can't help but laugh.

**XOXO**

He wakes up to her apologies the following morning, her face flushed with embarrassment as she sits up in the bed beside him. "I'm so sorry, Ed," she mumbles, and he can see by her face that her drunken stupor hasn't blessed her with memory loss.

He waves off her apologies, thinking she looks sexy as hell despite the hangover he knows she must have. "It's not a problem," he shrugs, attempting to lighten the mood. "I'm used to girls throwing themselves at me."

She groans, flushing as she throws a pillow in his face. "I can't believe I did that," she utters, burying her head beneath his covers.

He's sure that he's never seen anything so endearing in his life, and he inches closer to her, pulling the covers away from her face with a smirk. "It's not that unbelievable," he grins as he places a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose.

She smiles, giggling, and for just a moment, he pretends that she's not in his bed because of a broken heart. But then she's rising to her feet, scurrying to the shower as she realizes that she's going to be late for brunch with Blake and Michelle.

He frowns as he watches her disappear through the doorway, carelessly wondering how long it will be before her scent fades from his sheets.

**XOXO**

**A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to leave me your thoughts :-)**

**And. to all of you who have continued to review Devotion, I do want to say that I really, truly, **_**genuinely **_**appreciate your opinions and encouragement, but I can't promise that I'll be finishing that story. I've kind of lost my gusto for that one. **


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